GHOST  G is for Grave
by The Anonymous Innocent Blusher
Summary: This is just a collection of stories of a character named Drake Grave. A orphaned boy who's first love knows nothing of what he has seen.  Rated for safety
1. The Season Fall, The Year 2113

Takes place in the fall of 2113.

Yellow – Alliteration

Green – Simile

Red – Metaphor

Blue – Onomatopoeia

In this world, there will always be one girl whom I will never be able to forget. Her name was Andy Stevens, and I only knew her for a short summer. Now when I think back on those sunny days of running about, I can't help but to feel apologetic for my sudden departure. Even though she had taken my mind away from the fact of my parents dying only months before, I never had the chance to thank her. Now here I am, Drake Grave, 13 years-of-age, barely human and a military marvel.

Now here I sit paralyzed and awaiting surgery. It is as though I have only become a decoration in a hellish reality. Sanity and humanity are words that have been demolished from my dictionary for such a long time. Six years of almost nonstop murder does that to a person. Murder makes a person cold and unresponsive, much akin to how I was when I had met Andy in the early summer of 2108.

My family has forever been involved with war like circumstances, in hopes to 'better' the world. Be it from the revolutions around the world to the nuclear and non nuclear world wars; not to mention the various conspiracies and acts of terrorism. It is only natural that I, the only child of two elite soldiers, would train to become an elitist as well. So, from the moment of my birth I have been familiar with death. After all it was a natural part of my beloved parents' jobs, but it wasn't until December 22, 2107 when I saw a dead body for the first time in my life.

It truly does affect a child to see their parents slaughtered like cattle before their very eyes. A traitor to the group of which my parents belonged had come to my childhood home with a murderous intent. If my mother had not hid me away in a trunk with a gun, I may have died. After killing my parents, the traitor came after me only to be met with a bullet to the head.

Even now I cannot remember exactly what had occurred between that December day and May 27, 2108 – I don't even recall my 8th birthday… I met the Stevens family in late spring. It was my "family" that had arranged for me to live with them. What I couldn't get over was the hyperactive chick-a-dee whose chirping song caused a migraine to threaten my thoughts within measly minutes. Who would have thought that an annoying girl could be the only one to see me as human – the only one to make me feel human. It still makes me feel sad to recall leaving in the early morning hours of Wednesday the 8th of August before she even stirred from her slumber.

From the time I left, till now I have been with my "family" – aka the military group my parents had been a part of. I have been trained to be the best of the best. However, in a recent incident caused by a careless teammate my life had almost been lost. The moron had detonated a mini nuke I had placed before. The explosion had caused severe burns and I was lucky to have been thrown from a window due to the explosion. If I had been thrown against a wall of the interior of the building, I would have been dead the moment the remnants collapsed, but instead I was thrown through the glass, on to the hood of a parked vehicle and then finally on to the pavement with the crunch of bones resounding.

The accident had left me unconscious – which would have been a given in any situation as intense as that! I am unaware how long I had been in a coma, apart from reality. Then suddenly, I woke to the annoying tick of a clock, unaware of my surroundings. Not to mention they put me in this hideous room, painted with an awful aquamarine color that makes me want to hurl. It is bad enough I am injured enough to require medical intervention; however, I overheard the nurses "chitter chattering" about my upcoming operation. It would appear that I am to be the test subject of the newest prosthetic body!


	2. October 19, 2113

October 19, 2113

A young boy with dark shoulder length hair lay on the sterile bed of his disgustingly aquamarine hospital room. Today would be his last day in this body, yet he showed no fear as he stared in boredom through the same dark violet eyes that he had seen through these past thirteen years. It wasn't like he was frightened anymore, the revelation had already struck that this would be the last time he would see through these eyes his loving parents bestowed him.

Tears started to fall silently as the boy gave a harsh laugh, "What a despicable son I am. Throwing away the precious gifts my parents gave me." The boy glared at the ceiling, with its stupid poster of a kitten hanging on a branch with the moronic catch phrase 'Hang in there!' How he wanted to strangle that kitten that made him feel worse and worse as the days edged on. It only reminded him of the fact that he had to leave this body either by getting a prosthetic one or by dying because the radiation was destroying his remnants.

A light tapping resounded through the room as the nurse knocked, allowing Drake a moment to discreetly wipe his pained tears. The woman walked in smiling, carrying a small tank of knock out gas. The woman, who's name was Holly – that is if Drake recalled correctly, was in her mid-twenties and short white hair was messy and parts of her bangs would usually try to fall in her eyes. Yet, despite her messy appearance and eyes that could cause fright if she entered a dark room of an unsuspecting patient, she had a kind and considerate heart.

"So," Holly smiled as she lightly patted Drake on the shoulder. "Are you ready?" The woman looked slightly nervous in the thirteen year old boy's opinion. Why was it that she should even care whether or not if he was to live? She was only a nurse; therefore she shouldn't grow attached to any patient.

A wry smile was pulled on to the dying boy's face. "Yeah. I am ready for my assisted suicide…" Drake laughed at the horrified look on the woman's face.

"Drake Grave! It's not suicide! It is rebirth!" The nurse cried out in shock, causing the boy to laugh all the more. "How can you call such a miraculous thing suicide? The way you make it sound would surely tarnish its impeccable credibility."

Dark eyes rolled at being scolded, how idiotic. "Fine, whatever." The boy sighed slightly. "I am ready. Can we just get this over with already?" Slight annoyance laced his tone as he looked up at the red irises, his own violet eyes almost begging for his current pain to be over.

A sigh escaped the woman's mouth as she pulled up the small tank of knock out gas and maneuvered the mouth piece over the small boy's nose and mouth, latching the mask on him before turning the tank on. "Don't worry, everything will be OK." She mumbled softly, petting the soft dark hair of the boy as he lost consciousness

May 27, 2108

A young eight year old boy sat solemnly beside the water of a lake, watching the water churn. 'How had things turned out this way?' The boy pondered sorrowfully as he clutched his knees to his chest and shivered. He couldn't understand why his parents had to die. They had always been kind people, even if they were secretly assassins. It pained him to attempt to cope with the heartache of losing his family.

Due to the wallowing in his own miseries, Drake did not notice Andrea, the young girl of the family he was staying with temporarily, sneak up and sit beside him. "The waves are stupendous aren't they?" The words had shocked Drake into the realization of her presence as his head whipped in the girl's direction. Andrea, who had already informed him to call her Andy, was a small girl with smoky blue eyes, dark gray hair and one heck of a motor mouth!

The boy gave her an annoyed look that practically screamed: 'Go Away!' Yet, it seemed that the girl was either ignoring his waves of dislike or that she was stupid. Personally, Drake believed in the latter of the two.

"Do you even _know_ the meaning of that word?" He hissed out at the girl, hoping to scare her into leaving. However, instead of fleeing, Andy stared at him with slight shock before a wide grin spread across her face; leaving Drake left in a lake of confusion. He found himself shifting awhile from the girl as she started to giggle.

"What? What's so funny?" Drake demanded.

"Nothing! It's just that this is the first time you talked and you reminded of the cranky old cat that used to come around here." Andy gave an almost stupid grin that caused the boy to merely stare in disbelief. What was this girl trying to do: make him feel worse or cheer him up?

Exasperated, Drake sighed, turning his dull gaze back to the water. "If you're trying to cheer me up, you suck at it." Purple eyes glanced to side when a rather immature huff was given off. Before Drake even had the chance to ponder what the girl was doing, he felt a sudden weight on his lap and was pulled into a hug.

"Well fine then, if I can't cheer you up by getting you to laugh then you gotta release the hurt you're holding up!" Andy scolded lightly as she sat on Drake's lap, not giving any sign of allowing to boy up. "If my guess is right, you haven't let yourself cry since your parents die. That is cause you're a boy, and people don't think boys should be allowed to cry. But I think it isn't fair. You should be allowed to cry, Drake. You lost your mommy and daddy; you have the right to cry."

Drake felt his fists tighten, along with his throat. How was it that the little chick-a-dee knew that he wanted to cry? That he wanted to flood the Earth with his on going tears? How was it that some girl who had barely known him a day seemed to know more about what he was feeling, than what he knew himself? Quietly, the orphaned boy hid his face in the crook of the young girl's neck and began to cry softly as the girl began telling the stories of some of her favorite constellations – that way if a passerby were to come; they would think the boy merely had fallen asleep from boredom.

October 22, 2113

A groan erupted from the previously unconscious body as the person slowly grew into consciousness. "Ugh… I feel like dog doo." Drake couldn't help complaining as he rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"That usually happens when a prosthetic piece is added to the original body." A voice came from the chair in the room, "Be glad, Drake. Because you did a full body switch you should only feel nausea for perhaps a week, now that you are out of the critical zone in which your soul could have just passed on instead of implanting itself in your new body."

Drake glanced at the voice of the young man he knew fairly well, Jared Stevenson, aka. Jet. They had been on a few group missions in the past and got along fairly OK. Jet was a tall guy, with long black hair who was a few months short of a year older.

Drake found himself staring at the older boy's silver eyes. They were prosthetic as well. From what the young boy understood, Jet's older sister had either attempted or succeeded at gouging his original eyes out. He felt the desire to ask if it hurt, but couldn't find it within himself to do so.

Suddenly, Miss Holly burst through the door, surprising both boys whom turned to look. "Is he up yet?" Holly had asked before glancing at Drake, who was now working himself into a sitting position. "Oh good your up! This is positively stupendous that you lived, let alone woke up so soon!" The woman smiled clapping happily, before receiving an annoyed look from the thirteen year old.

"Don't ever say 'stupendous' around me again. Any word but that. I don't care if you call me a rat face head case, just don't use that word around me again." Drake practically growled as he said these words, he didn't want to remember his chick-a-dee right now.


	3. Drake's Letter

Mrs. Murphy,

I feel the greatest need to apologize for the loss of your son Patrick. He was like a big brother to me and yet I was unable to protect him. You see, on our latest assignment we had been travelling within the Amazon. I will recount things of which I am permitted to do so within this letter, for some things that occurred down there are best left not to be retold – not to mention that if certain things are mentioned the penalty will likely be death for the both of us.

We had been traveling within the forest for about two weeks when I noticed that Patrick was acting somewhat abnormal for his usual self. He had gone quiet and the usually bright emerald eyes had dulled. I had suspicion that he was growing ill or perhaps had been ill the entire time. As his endurance grew weaker, his humor escalated – sometimes to the point of which he was laughing in such a hysteric state that nothing could be done in order to calm him.

Was he calm and in control of himself in front of others besides me? Of course, he seemed to realize that the mission was most important and that the frugal manner of ones health is idiotic. Though it highly important to maintain ones sanity and so forth, due to the fact that if one is in poor health of body and mind it could be threatening to the mission, but you already know this of course. After all, I am sure you have encountered far more things then Patrick or I.

As we traveled through the forest, colors of all sorts flooded our vision. The greenery, not to mention the vivid colors of the wildlife could likely enrapture the soul of an artist, but to us they were merely roadblocks, shelter, food, or in the case of something being poisonous – a deadly enemy. I must admit some of the big cats put up a bit of a fight, but didn't do as much damage as the poisonous plant nearby a village we had gone to. Said plant was the reason the many of their people's deaths and therefore was proclaimed to be cursed.

I recall the day we had found a large waterfall, that had a cave within it. The water was so cold and pure, yet within the cave was a stench of death. Seems like we were not the first to be in said cave, after all the rotting flesh and bones clearly indicated it to be another beings habitat. We persevered to camp in that reeking grave over night, not knowing that someone had been tracking us since the cursed plant village from only days before.

It had to have been around midnight when our pursuers moronically fired a round off. Now that I think of it more, they were likely skittish due to some wild animal. I had quickly wakened Patrick, for I was the one keeping watch that night. We packed up our things and scurried out of the waterfall cave, unknowing of how many there where it was best that we moved quickly – or so Patrick had told me. I wish we would have stayed in the cave, maybe then Patrick would still be here.

We had to go up and there was no other way than to climb the slippery rocks of the waterfall. Precations and rationality was not on the mind as the shots got closer. Soon enough gunfire rained down around us. Being trapped in such a situation is not a good thing ma'am. One misplacement of a hand or foot on the slick surface and one would fall to their death. It was impossible to fire back in the pitch of night on those cursed rocks. As we had neared the top I felt a warm, sticky substance hit my face, for your son was higher than I. Somehow we managed to get to the top of the cliffish surface, which is when I found what the cause for the substance was. There before me lay a bloody man laughing madly. The blood entranced him to a point of which it was frightening.

Try as I may he refused to budge as he shouted, "See? Do you see now why nobody else wanted this mission my little dragon friend? It is because this place is nuts. It's insane!" The emerald eyes were wide and frightening as he thrashed about laughing. Never before had I thought I would see such a calm and controlled man flip his lid.

What happened after that I dare not say, for if I were to repeat what else was said, what else happened – I fear you will not be able to rest at night. I realize I have likely said to much as it is and I apologize, but it is disgraceful for the upper ranks to tell you he died from a mere snake bite. That I assure you is a lie! That said snake could walk and talk. Patrick saved me from that said snake's blade. That said snake is now dead – its carcass is in that chamber filled by the stench of death and his buddies who search for him will find a nasty surprise a little note scrawled deeply into the smooth, yet hard rock above the said snake's severed head.

Again, I offer my condolences.

Drake Grave


End file.
